


A New Interlude: Road Trip

by Spadesjade



Series: Tom and Michelle [7]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Road Trips, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadesjade/pseuds/Spadesjade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Michelle go for a trip to Cornwall. Tom runs into someone from the past and has some explaining to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Interlude: Road Trip

**Author's Note:**

> This is the FFF fandom fluff challenge. I can't get my printscreen to work so I just clicked off randomly and took what I got. Except I changed Freddie to Tom because I can't write Freddie.

[This takes place in the middle of the upcoming chapter, which hasn't been published yet. Michelle is in London already, so that was convenient.]

PRINTSCREEN CHALLENGE: Thomas/ took me to London/ and we went on a road trip/ that night we had an argument/ but then he gazed into my eyes/ and said please stay.

\---------------  
The morning we headed out was foggy, but bright. The sun lit up the whiteness around us so that it was nearly blinding. I figured it wouldn't be long until the fog was burned away -- that was how it was in California, mostly because of the temperature. But London was much cooler than I was used to, and certainly more damp, so I made sure I had my trusty layers on.

Tom came out dressed in the deep hunter green cardigan I'd given him, his Loki scarf around his neck. His hair was not shorn yet in anticipation of our visit to his mother's -- I loved how the sun caught on the ginger highlights of his curls, more red now than they would have been if he'd kept the springy blond curls he'd worn when I first knew him. 

It was unfair that any one person should be so blessedly beautiful in such different looks. 

"Here, I keep forgetting to give this to you," I said, pressing something into his palm. He looked down and chuckled.

"Trying to tell me something?" he goaded me, but with his sparkling smile. A bright yellow and red tube sat in his hand, with the word CARMEX across them.

"Works for me," I said. "And it's masculine enough for you, I thought. Or would you rather something strawberry flavored?"

He swung his other arm around my back and pulled me close very quickly, planting those mildly-chapped lips over mine. I didn't mind -- but couldn't help but giggle, knowing I wasn't wearing strawberry.

"I prefer my method," he said, pulling back after making sure most of my own gloss was gone. "And that's not strawberry."

"Butter rum," I confirmed.

His eyebrows went up. "That new?"

"It was a limited edition Christmas thing at Bath and Body Works," I explained. "I only take it out for special occasions."

"Well, you might use it up today," he said, and swiped one more quick kiss for any last of the rich flavor that might be left. "Let's go, it's still early, we might miss the traffic."

Our little road trip was mostly an opportunity for Tom to take out his Jag and stretch its legs. It didn't matter to me. It was fun, riding around in that Jag. Even more fun was getting Tom to wear driving gloves. I was apparently still crazy jet-lagged, because getting up at five in the morning to be ready to leave by six didn't make me bat an eye. Of course, that could also be Tom. The more I was with him, the more I wanted to be with him. His suggestion to make the five hour trip to Cornwall, which would probably be closer to six with various stops in between, was greeted with enthusiasm on my part -- generally, I loved road trips, and rarely found the opportunity to make any. He'd been there himself dozens of times, but he wanted me to see it. The cliffs, the beaches, and in particular St. Mawes Castle, which he seemed to think I would enjoy photographing. 

I was ready to go.

We made our first stop a few hours in, after enjoying ourselves listen to pretty much my entire collection of INXS CD's, all loaded up on my iPod, which did include their very last one by JD-whatever-his-name-had-been, and I knew we hadn't gotten through them all. Tom was always so polite and genteel, but he had an enormously silly side that I loved getting it to come out, and in those moments I learned more about him than all the serious conversations we'd ever had. 

The stop was very scenic, a bit away from the thicker crowds, but as it was a weekday and still early in the spring, there weren't too many tourists about, so we had most of the place to ourselves.

A field of early wildflowers wasn't too far away, and I meandered over to get a few pictures. The sun had burned away most of the fog, and the sky was a brilliant turquoise, and it was utterly perfect. The car wasn't too far behind me, and I didn't see Tom sneak into the driver's seat and hit play on the iPod until the first familiar chords of my favorite INXS song of all time started to play.

"All veils and misty  
Streets of blue  
Almond looks  
That chill divine..."

I turned, and Tom was there, sliding my camera carefully behind my back so as not to crush it between us. He pulled me into his arms, one around my back as his hand grasped my hip, the other taking mine, and swung me around.

"Some silky moment that goes on forever...  
and we're leaving broken hearts...behind..."

I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. 

"Mystify," we sang together, very softly. "Mystify me....mystify...mystify me...."

"This song makes me think of you," he whispered in my ear as we gently spun around. 

"Funny," I said, running my nose along the line of his jaw, "I was going to say the same thing about you."

He just smiled back, and we let the song finish, holding each other. It was one of those moments that burns into your brain and even when you're eighty, you will remember it, standing in that field, dancing in the arms of the love of your life, listening to a song that will forever symbolize it. 

\-----------------

Cornwall was everything I thought it would be. We spent hours in the castle, and hours walking along the beach, until it became obvious that we either had to head back to London or figure out where we were going to spend the night. I didn't know where the time went. 

"You haven't touched the CARMEX," I teased, "but somehow your lips look much better than they did this morning. And I'm running rather low on my butter rum."

His answer was to kiss me again, then smack his lips together. "I'll save it for when you're..." And then he seemed to cut himself off, his face shifting into something resembling a wince, but he quickly smiled again. "For later," he finished. 

We'd stopped at an inn that was serving dinner. The sun was starting to set and we had decided that we would head back right after, hopefully getting home before midnight. I was more worried about Tom being tired on the road, and I was useless in the passenger seat -- I was a bit like a cat, I could nap anywhere, and usually did -- cars, planes, sometimes my own desk chair if the day was too slow. I wanted to make sure I didn't fall asleep on him, drinking any caffeinated drink I could find. A simple Coke wouldn't cut it. I needed an energy drink.

But that much caffeine was going to make me jittery, at least at first. I could already feel it as we were sitting down. In a quiet, secluded corner where nobody was looking at us, nobody knew us, it felt like we were normal people.

The whole day had felt like that. And I admit, I loved it. 

"So do you wine and dine all the girls like this?" I said with a long stretch after we'd finished. I had to shake the last of the cricks out before we got back into that car. Tom had scooted his chair close to mine so that our knees were touching, and he reached down, his warm hand engulfing the lower part of my thigh, just above the knee. 

"Only the important ones," he replied.

"And this place?" I looked around -- it was a beautiful little inn. I was tempted to say screw driving back, we'd get a couple of rooms here -- or maybe just one, the little devil on my shoulder whispered, the thought clawing at the edges of my brain. 

But no. Even if I did get weak...I could see Tom now, asking me if I was sure, if I was absolutely sure I wanted this, and he would know that I was being impulsive, that I was throwing resolution to the wind, giving in to the so-called perfect moment in a perfect day. 

But it would be perfect...

He seemed to be reading my mind. When I glanced at him, he gave a little shake of his head and let go of my thigh, grasping at my fingers to pull my hand into his. "At ease," he said in a very low voice, that it was more of a vibration than an actual sound, but I knew the tone. I knew it very well. 

"No, I haven't been here before at this inn," he said, "to answer your question. But it is very nice. Perfect spot for a honeymoon." 

It was as close to the word "marriage" as either of us had ever said out loud, and I probably looked a little startled. He had a strange gleam in his eye, and suddenly I felt like my skin had started to slide off me, like my whole body had suddenly lost all cohesion, nerves and muscles utterly disconnected, as he opened his mouth again and I knew, I knew what the next words were going to be...or at least what they were going to be about.

And then it vanished. Poof. Tom's eyes slipped over my left shoulder, and his face completely changed.

At first, shock. I saw his blue eyes widen, the pupils shrink. His jaw loosened, and while I had not ever seen it before, I knew the shadow that slipped over his cheeks was guilt.

A wave of guilt slapping him across the face like a slow tide creeping in.

I turned and looked over my shoulder, wondering what the hell had suddenly caused the tear in reality.

A woman stood there, apparently only just having noticed Tom herself. She was older than us -- I guessed forty at the very least, but pretty. Curvy, dressed in a pencil skirt and white shirt, long brown hair, and with a rather large diamond ring on her left hand that clutched a small purse, contrasting her bright pink nails which somehow didn't seem gaudy -- either the ring or the nails.

"Melissa," came his voice, sounding higher pitched than I'd ever heard it. He immediately got to his feet, that breeding of good manners in him so strong that I had no idea who this woman was -- a cheating ex or his former best friend.

"Tom," Melissa returned, and the expression on her face was one I knew well, so very well -- a melancholy, like seeing something long lost but suddenly remembering what it felt like to have it, enough to miss is terribly, even though those thoughts may not have been at the edge of my brain a mere minute ago.

Or I could have just been projecting.

He kissed her cheek, she grasped his arm, Tom introduced me, told her I was visiting him from the States, he'd brought me to Cornwall, asked her how she was doing. She told him she was newly engaged, flashed the ring, let me see it as it was completely gorgeous, and diamonds glittered like nothing quite else. She motioned to her fiancée, who joined them, we all shook hands, congratulated them, we said we were just finishing, they said they were just arriving, and they politely waved goodbye as they were shown to their table.

Tom sat back down. The bill had arrived and he made busy paying it. 

"I want to assume ex-girlfriend, from the look on your face when you saw her," I said as he shuffled with his cards. 

Tom looked up. His face had gone blank. I had a terrible feeling he was going to start acting for me, but I had resolved a long time ago to not play that game with him. Tom was as compulsive about the truth as I was. I had faith in that.

"Can we talk about it in the car?" he asked, his voice a bit tight.

Well, at least he wasn't pretending. I felt both grateful for his lack of artifice and irritated by his attempted discretion. Wild scenes were not something I was usually game for, but the things I'd seen in his face...

My heart rate was accelerating and my cheeks were warm and I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep it in.

"I'm going to the ladies," I said, standing. "Meet you at the car?"

He glanced up at me again, gave me a fleeting smile and nodded. "All right then."

\--------------

I splashed some cool water on my cheeks, looked at my face in the mirror.

I was not going to jump to conclusions. It was silly. We'd had a wonderful, amazing day and I trusted Tom. I loved Tom. But his face...there was a story here. 

It would turn out to be nothing, I told myself. The things I spent the most energy worrying about rarely, so rarely turned out to actually happen. 

So I went into the bathroom stall and did my business, determined to dismiss my anxiety. When I came out, Melissa had just walked in.

"Oh!" she said as we very nearly collided. "Oh, Michelle, meeting again so soon!"

I smiled. I was good at forcing smiles. Working in a hospital and seeing all kinds of ugly things made you good at that. 

"Ships in the night," I replied lightly. I lifted my hands, motioning to the sink. "Trade you."

She chuckled, stepped away from the sink toward the stall, and I stepped away from the stall toward the sink. I turned on the water and shoved my hands under it, wondering how fast I could wash and still seem sanitary.

But Melissa hadn't gone into the stall. She stood for a moment, and then turned to me as I reached for the towels. I caught her movement out the corner of my eye and turned toward her instinctively, brow raised.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

Her eyes were slightly narrowed, not in malice, but in consideration. "No, nothing...how long have you and Tom been together, just curious?"

Oh fuck. "Since the new year," I said. 

Her face relaxed a bit. "Oh, how nice. Meet at a party?"

"Actually we met a long time ago, but...it's a long story. It became official at New Years, yes."

She nodded. "Lovely. Congrats to you two, as well. I'm glad to see Tom with someone. Just...watch yourself, yeah?" And then she slipped into the stall.

What the actual fuck.

As if on automatic, I turned and walked out of the restroom, the restaurant, and into the parking lot toward the car. I stood by it for several long minutes, and then heard footsteps behind me.

Tom unlocked the Jag and opened his mouth, probably to say that we should be getting back, or it's okay to get into the car, or something casual, but one look at my face and he stopped. Then, without pretense, he stepped closer to me and pulled me into his arms. I was stiff, but I didn't resist. 

"Please, Michelle, my hummingbird, please let me explain."

"She told me...she told me to watch myself," I said against his shoulder.

He pulled back and looked down at me. He seemed genuinely surprised. "She said that?" Then he shook his head. "Jag's unlocked." He reached for the door and opened it for me. I got in, knowing he'd wait until we were private, and then I would know.

As soon as his door was shut, Tom said, "I would ask you not to jump to any conclusions. Unfortunately this is the one time when you'd probably be justified." He looked away from me, his hand clenching the wheel. He hadn't started the car yet, and in the setting sun the long shadows hid his face. 

"When I did the promotion for Thor, I met Kat," he said, his head turning so that he was looking straight out the windshield. He had added his other hand to the steering wheel, as if to steady himself. I knew he was talking about Kat Dennings. I knew they had dated briefly. I knew he had liked her very much and didn't go into a lot of detail about their short relationship. I knew they were on good terms, at least now, friends. 

"You--" I started, but he raised a hand.

"Please," he said softly, eyes still forward.

"This isn't something I'm proud of," he said, "so just...bear with me.

"You know Kat and I weren't much for long. I wanted to be. She broke it off because she didn't think we worked. Maybe I was still too fresh off the boat, not seasoned enough, too...posh. Whatever word she used I can't remember. I just remember her telling me, as nicely as she could, that I wasn't right for her, and she wasn't right for me. No hard feelings, she didn't want it to get ugly. And like the polite gentleman I always strived to be, I accepted it, with no hard feelings. We finished the promotional tours, and then I came back here, to Cornwall, actually, and licked my wounds. 

"And that was when I met Melissa.

"We were two consenting adults. She was a bit older than me, about seven, eight years, and she'd been around. Lived twice the life of anyone else her age, the things she told me. I was rather shocked to see her with an engagement ring on her. She told me that I couldn't let disappointments in love keep me from enjoying the other things in my life. There were so many other things in the world than love, she said. 

"We spent that month off having...a lot of sex." He finally looked at me, and he did not seem proud of his statement. "It was the most shallow relationship I'd ever had with anyone in my life. Even when I was doing it I kept asking myself why, when I didn't have any feelings for her, outside of lust." He rubbed his forehead, ran his hand through his hair, the other one still tight on the wheel. "And then one day," he said with a heavy wince, his fingers pressing his eyes in a pinch toward the bridge of his nose, "she decided to tell me that she was in love with me."

He let out a deep sigh and let his hands drop into his lap. His shoulders, before high, now slumped.

"I left Cornwall within a day. I told her that this wasn't...what we had. That she knew going in, that I was rebounding, that I was angry, that I was going through some kind of stupid rebellion against being a decent guy because what had that gotten me? I'd felt like Kat had dismissed me before she even gave me a chance, seeing me as some English pretty boy. And so I'd turned around and been the absolute opposite -- a complete cad."

Tom sighed again, his head bowing down so that it almost touched the wheel, before sitting back up again with a deep breath. 

"She wasn't some innocent, wilting flower that I'd seduced. In my more rational moments, the fair way to see it is that she seduced me. But when she told me she had feelings, I knew how wrong what I'd done actually was. I'd suspected it all along, but that was when it finally hit home. So I broke if off and I left. I gave her the courtesy of telling her so, I didn't just disappear. But I know she was heartbroken.

"I ran into her again, last year, on a trip up here, randomly. I apologized to her for what happened, but I saw it in her face...she hadn't forgiven me. I saw it again tonight when she came into the inn -- before she put on a face and we all made nice conversation like civilized people. That was probably why she said what she did." 

Finally, finally he looked at me, and his gaze didn't shift away quickly like it did before. He watched closely, waiting for my reaction. 

"You think she's still hung up on you?" I managed through a rapidly closing throat.

Tom shrugged. "I can't say for sure. But considering what she said to you, and the look she gave me...I wish you'd seen that. I know you saw my face." He reached across the console, his fingers sliding around my hand. "I'm not proud of it, Michelle. If I could go back and undo it, I would. I met Susannah not too long after that and we were together for a few years, but when that fell apart I realized maybe Melissa was right, maybe there were other things than love. But not that. Not what I had with Melissa. Not using another person. Even if the other person knew they were being used. You can't account for a person's heart. You can't make any contract, agree to any terms, that will keep a heart out of it. Sometimes..." and he laughed then, a little bitterly, "I wish it had been me who fell, instead of her, and she who kicked me to the curb, like I've heard you say. It's worse, sometimes, being the cad, if you have any kind of decency. Breaks in your heart heal, but a guilty conscience is much worse."

I considered his words, looking out the window, still feeling his fingertips on my skin, squeezing occasionally.

"Are you angry at me?" he whispered.

I blinked, turned to him. Angry? That wasn't the right word. I wasn't any level of angry. Not annoyed, not furious, nothing on that spectrum at all.

But there was something else. A splinter. Something digging into me. Some kind of strange pain. A...disappointment. 

"I'm not angry," I whispered, pressing his hand that clung so fiercely to mine. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

I felt the old paranoia slither up and ask if I really believed that he was telling the truth -- and I felt a very confident yes shout it back down. It couldn't have been easy to admit what he'd done, and it was clear that he was sorry for it. He'd apologized to her. It was in her purview to forgive him or not.

Apparently he hadn't quite forgiven himself.

Those thoughts should have comforted me. People made mistakes and I couldn't judge him for his past...

But this didn't fit. It didn't fit with the Tom I knew. But who was that? Had I built him up on a pedestal, put him up so high that this news was this crushing?

Because I wasn't angry, but I was disappointed. I was...heartbroken. Just a bit. A little crack. 

I couldn't figure out why.

\-----------------

The drive back was much less exuberant. All the drama had taken all the energy right from my system, and accompanied by the sugar crash after dinner, I felt extremely sleepy, and I know I dozed off for a few hours, because the last I looked at the clock it was eight, and when I opened my eyes again, it was after ten.

"I was out," I said with a sleepy gasp, straightening from when I had slumped in the seat, my back and neck muscles whining at the movement. 

Tom reached over, brushed my mussed hair from my forehead. "You were," he said. "But it's okay. Radio's been keeping me company."

I strained to hear it, realized he must have turned it way down, or his hearing was exceptional.

"Maybe we can take a quick break?" I asked. "I think I have to pee."

We managed to find a petrol station pretty quick, and I hustled out of the car, bladder fit to burst. Inside the lavatory, I did my business as leisurely as I could, as I was starting to turn over the events of the evening in my brain, again.

It bugged me. I was trying to figure out why.

It is never pleasant to meet a man's ex-girlfriends. It's a reminder that he had been in love with people before you. Each of them had thought, when they were with him, that this was probably it -- the bit match. The one that was going to last. But no, it was over. And he had moved on. He could do it again, and you could join the list. At least, this was how I imagined it. But I wasn't jealous. He hadn't loved her, that much was plain.

I wished he had.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the admission of using someone. Like an object. The though that Tom would do that to someone...

But we made mistakes, didn't we? I knew I'd done some stupid things in the past I wasn't proud of. Not like what Tom had admitted, though. But were they any different, ultimately? Knowing something was wrong and doing it anyway was the basis of every single sin in the history of the world, and we were all sinners.

I came back out to find him purchasing a few drinks. He had picked up a green apple flavored soda, one of my favorites, and I felt a smile flicker across my lips. 

He turned around, both drinks in his hands, and I reached out for mine. "Thanks," I said, snapping it open. 

He nodded, but he was looking at me oddly as I took a sip. I raised my eyebrows up at him in question.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

It struck me as an odd question. I shrugged. "A bit hazy. Car sleeping does that to me. Did you need gas or anything?"

"Yes, I filled up when you were in the bathroom." He motioned toward the door, and I turned. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for me, to take my free hand, and inexplicably I stiffened and just kept walking.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Back out at the car, I went to my side and waited for him to unlock it. When he reached the car, he gave me a rather dark look over the top, but it could have been the time of night, the shadows, the glare of the fluorescent lights, anything--

Except his eyes. There was something angry in his eyes.

As soon as the door closed, he spoke.

"If you're angry at me, I'd just as soon you'd tell me."

I jumped a bit. "I'm not angry, Tom," I said. "I said I wasn't and I'm not. Why would I be? You didn't do it to me."

He jerked his head toward me and his eyes were snapping. "Don't pretend to be callous. It doesn't suit you."

Now I was starting to get irritated. "I'm not angry Tom. Keep pushing and I'll change my answer."

"Then what?" he asked, the first gleam of confusion and pain entering his eyes. "You've hardly spoken two words to me since I told you, and sleepy or not, you...you're not looking at me the same way."

I scowled. "Looking at you?"

"Yes..." he trailed off, bit his lip, looked out the window toward the attendant station. "There's something missing in your face. Maybe I'm being paranoid and imagining it." He looked back at me again, and with a grin that wasn't quite natural added, "Maybe you're starting to rub off on me."

I didn't see the humor. I knew he was attempting, awkwardly, to lighten the mood, and I knew I should help.

"If we hadn't run into her today," I said, "would you have told me? What happened between you?"

That hit home. I saw it in the way his brow wrinkled. He looked down at his hands. "I hope I would have, eventually. Maybe. Seeing how you're taking it, I would have been justified in putting it off as long as possible."

I sighed, frustrated. "How am I taking it, Tom? Am I yelling at you? I'm talking to you right now, I'm not trying to fight with you, and as for how I look at you...it's late and I'm tired!"

He snorted. "Well, then let's hurry home," he said, starting the car. I reached out and put my hand over his wrist, stopping him. 

"No, now you're pissed and I'm not going to die in a fiery car crash."

"Then tell me what it is," he said, turning toward me, as much as the car seat would allow, and grasping both my hands. "If you're not angry...then what?"

"I just...I don't like thinking of you like that!" I cried, realizing what it was in that moment of stress. "I don't like the thought of you behaving like a cad. Dismissing personal feelings. Having...having sex with someone for a month and not feeling anything for them. It makes you look...like someone else. Not the Tom I know."

His eyes were so sad. I had to look away, but he didn't let go of me.

"I guess I can understand that," he murmured. "I felt the same way too, when I realized what I'd done."

"You said it had been bugging you," I pointed out.

He nodded. "It had. But...that was what Melissa kept preaching at me, letting go of strings and just letting myself enjoy life. Only for her it was sex. I was astonished when she told me she loved me, Michelle. That wasn't how I'd known her, either. It was like someone pulling off a mask."

I shook my head. "That...that isn't what bothers me. Although I never like hearing about someone confessing their feelings and not having them be returned."

A silence descended over us as I let my words sink in to my own brain. Maybe that WAS what was bothering me, or at least part. Her confessing feelings to Tom, being in a sexual relationship with Tom, and getting rejected.

Because I knew that feeling.

Worse, I knew it from Tom.

It seemed like he knew what I was thinking. One of his hands released me, and two fingertips slipped under my chin, gently turning my face so he could see me. Somehow tears had formed in my eyes.

"Is that was it is?" he whispered. "Does she remind you of you?"

I wanted to shake my head...but I couldn't. I couldn't nod, either, so I just shrugged. "I don't know."

"She wasn't you, Michelle," Tom said. "What happened between you and me was a misunderstanding."

"But I didn't know that," I said shakily. "And that isn't all of it..."

"Is it the sex?" he tried again, even softer. I slowly nodded, and he sighed, his head lowering. "I know, Michelle. That's probably why...I didn't want to tell you." He drew a breath. "I know we've talked about this, and I've tried to make it clear to you, my intentions, but...it isn't just about putting something off, it is? It's the whole attitude toward it. You've had a very serious attitude your whole life and you hear about me acting casually toward it...there's a disconnect there."

I nodded again. The tears started to slip.

"You're afraid we're not going to work. Because of our different attitudes."

I shut my eyes. The tears were hot against my cheeks.

"Please listen to me," he said, and I felt his breath against my skin, the pad of his thumb as he brushed the tears away. "Please look at me, Michelle."

It took a concentrated moment, but I did. I waited for whatever he had to say.

"I had to go back to L.A., after that summer. More filming, all kinds of things happening. That beach in Santa Monica, that I told you I used to run on -- I came to a decision while I was there -- I do most of my serious thinking when I'm running, and I remember it as clear as your face, right now. I was running on that beach, and I realized that wasn't who I wanted to be. I was never going to be that person, again. I'd tried it and it didn't work -- it didn't make me happy. It didn't fit with who I really was. I think that's one of the reasons I lasted as long as I did with Susannah. I was determined to turn away from that sort of behavior. When it ended with her, I honestly despaired of being able to have a relationship with anyone, of being able to have love and the career I so desperately wanted, so I figured I would just concentrate on the one and let the other handle itself. I picked the career. And then I met you."

I hiccupped a tiny sob. "Me?"

He smiled. "You. That New Years I had a feeling like I'd never had, and when I walked through that door and saw you...something sparked inside of me. I thought it was memories, I thought it was something left unresolved...but in that kitchen, when I realized how you'd felt for me all that time ago, I knew what that spark was."

I frowned, and shifted back a bit, but Tom pursued, pulling me closer to him by just his hand on my cheek, the barest added pressure. He leaned down so that our noses were inches apart.

"When I tell you that I'm fine with waiting...I honestly mean it. I had a completely shallow relationship with all the sex I could have asked for. But it wasn't love. And now I'm more in love with you than I've ever been in my life, and I can barely touch you below your shoulders. I would rather have this. I would rather have this for the rest of my life. If there was something horribly wrong with you, or me, and we could never be intimate, not even if we married...I'd still pick you, Michelle. I'd still want this with you. Because I love you that much. And I should have told you this sooner, or at a different time, or under different circumst--"

I cut him off. I had reached forward, put my hand behind his head and pulled his mouth to mine. I had never shut anyone up by kissing them before. But my heart was hammering and there were new tears on my cheeks and I felt like I was going to explode from the center out, like a grenade. 

He let me. I felt him melt into me, felt his fingers curl around my neck, his other hand join the first, fingers digging into my back as he pulled me as close as he could. 

I finally got it. Finally. 

We had just parted for breath when the knock came. Tom pulled himself from me and cracked the window at the man who had knocked. "Mate, can I use the station?" he asked, motioning with his thumb toward the pump -- where we were still parked. Tom nodded, started the car.

"Yeah, yeah, mate, sorry..."

I was half-sprawled across the divide between us, but I didn't pull back. I put on the waist belt, but I stayed as close to Tom as I could as he got the car into motion. And then he slung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me closer to him, kissing the top of my head.

"I love you," I told him, pressing my hand over his heart. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "No, don't. Just...just stay with me." He looked down at me, slowing on the street, as there was hardly any traffic around us this late. "Please...stay."

I nodded. "As long as you want."

"For good," he kissed my forehead, my cheek. I turned my face so that our lips met, briefly, before he had to turn back to traffic. 

"For good," I replied.


End file.
